Vanish cot, bower, lake, vale, and hill;
Fadeth thy pinnacled abode;
And every mountain-ridge that gleams
In the warmth-darting day, until,
Upon the sun's far-glittering road,
Thou pausest by the eternal streams.
Or, cradled in the wintry blast,
Clouds spread like curtains, round thy nest, Darkness and storms alone are thine; When heaven with blackness is o'ercast, Proudly uprearest thou thy crest,
Like spirit o'er the tempest's shrine!
Harmless the arrowy lightning's flame
Gleams o'er thy rocky throne of dread,
And echoing rolls the thunder peal,
Yet cannot storms thy ardour tame;
Let whirlwinds shake each mountain head,
In vain for thee, thou canst not feel!
Art thou embolden'd, then, by them? Drink'st thou fresh vigour from the storm?
Or doth some being bid thee dare
The mighty unseen tides to stem?
Or art thou, in created form,
The god himself who dwells in air?
In vain we ponder. Who can tell
The feelings that inspire thy breast?
Who can the untold daring guess,
Which makes thy panting bosom swell,
As round thee, the dark cloud doth rest
In all its gloomy awfulness?
Oh! I have watch'd thy vent'rous flight,
Till straining sense could gaze no more;
Have seen thee, in the brightest beam,
Lift up thy pinions to the light,
And higher still, undazzled, soar,
Till died away thy latest scream!
So I have gaz'd; and, gazing, deem'd,
How weak, with thee, man's utmost power!
How circumscrib'd his narrow sphere!
So I have mus'd; and musing, dream'd
That his is no superior dower,
To dwell, through life, enshackled here.
Had but to him thy wing been given,
That he might soar, uncheck'd, at will,
And from this jarring world uprise
To the pure star-pav'd courts of heaven,
A calmer hope his soul might fill,
A brighter glance illume his eyes.
But God is just! and thou, proud bird!
Art but an emblem unto man.
Soar up to worlds which he nor knows,
Nor their unbounded fields hath heard!
Stretch thy wide wing, and boldly scan
The realms whence glory's fountain flows!
Rise unto the far tracts of light!
Yet shall thy strength, in time, decay;
Still restless shall thy pinions be;
Dimness shall veil thy piercing sight;
And into nothing fade away
Thy age-renewed infancy!
But man shall soar on higher plume,
A brighter glance shall fire his eye,
A bolder aim shall swell his breast;
And from the earth's encircling gloom,
Cleave shall he the untrodden sky,
And in the heavens erect his nest!
On angel's wing shall he be buoy'd
Up to the realms thou canst not dare:
A brighter sun shall round him shine,
A holier feeling be enjoy'd,
Than thrills thee, in the domes of air,
In regions endless and divine!
Renew thy youth for countless years *,
How shalt thou number thine with his ? Time fades.-Eternity endures;
And though in grief he now appears, In mansions of eternal bliss
Immortal youth his toil ensures.
Then take thy course through cloud and storm,
Wing, with the lightning, through the sky
Thy all untrack'd, impervious way;
Hereafter may an angel's form
Bear me, beyond thy glance, on high,
To HIM whom thy proud flights obey!
And whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely.
HARK! how a voice divine entreats :
Ho, every one that thirsts, draw neart!
Hark! how the sent of God repeats
The gracious sound in every ear;
Salvation's boon, the gift of Heaven,
Freely receive, 'tis freely given!
The limpid stream, that murmuring flows
From Horeb *, on Rephidem's plain :
The spring from Jacob's well+ which rose,
Whoever drinks shall thirst again:
From God's own throne life's waters pour,
And those who taste shall thirst no more.
Ye weary, drooping, pilgrim bands,
Sad travellers o'er this dreary waste,
From parched rocks, and burning sands,
To life's eternal fountain haste;
Nor shining gold, nor offering bring,
But freely quaff the exhaustless spring.
Many of the Indian nations entertain an idea that, when they die, their souls return to their native land, and to the homes of their kindred. This mistaken notion frequently induces them to commit suicide; and the subject of the following lines drowned himself at the Nore, in the hope of rejoining his earliest and dearest friends.
Soon as death's gloomy terrors I've brav’d,
To my dear native land I shall haste;
And tho' now I'm by Christians enslav'd,
Of Liberty's sweets I shall taste.
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